


All That Jazz

by ThePlatypusPrincess



Category: The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Dancing, Drag Queens, I have entirely too many fun facts about the jazz age, Jazz Age, M/M, Undercover, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlatypusPrincess/pseuds/ThePlatypusPrincess
Summary: When antiquities are being smuggled through the back of a Cairo jazz club, who else would anyone trust to ferret out the culprits?
Relationships: Ardeth Bay/Jonathan Carnahan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119





	All That Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> Great thanks to TheWhoGeek and Goativa for putting up with my ramblings and our shared love of this movie.

Jonathan coughed, sputtering as alcohol flowed down the wrong way. 

"Evy, you can't be serious!" 

His sister grinned, eyes sparkling. "Why not? The club is clearly a front for trafficked antiquities, and I certainly can't go undercover in a place like that. They wouldn't have me!" She sized herself up next to him. "Yes… I think we can whip up something." 

Jonathan backed away. "Evy…" 

"We'll need to do something about your face…" 

"Evy!" 

She gave him a light shove into her dressing table chair. "Now, hold still! This will hurt a bit, as I don't think anyone has ever touched your brows…" 

Jonathan gripped the armrests, grumbling as Evy set to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the hell is this?" 

Rick glanced around the smoke owlishly as Evy gripped his arm. 

"Isn't it exciting?" 

Rick wrinkled his nose. "Darlin', putting down a mummy was exciting. This is just… somethin' else." 

Evy tugged him down into a seat and a table on the edge of the floor. "Oh, hush, O'Connell! It'll be fun. Just think about it: a real human problem that we can solve. We could at least stop one bit of a terrible trade and just look: a real smuggler's den. Isn't it delightful?" 

"Like I said… it's somethin'."

A shadow slid into the seat beside Evy. The somewhat-former librarian beamed at him as Rick tossed him a lazy wave. Ardeth cocked an eyebrow at the heavy atmosphere. 

"So, tonight we are to infiltrate a den of iniquity? Care to elaborate, Evelyn?" 

Evy shrugged as a tall figure draped in silks trailed their fingers over her shoulder. 

"Mademoiselle Carnahan, I have no words to express my gratitude," murmured the low voice. "Everything is in place. After this is over, I may need to hire our dear partner on as a permanent fixture." 

Evy gawked up at the speaker in surprise. "Madame Bijou, truly?" 

The painted face split into a wide grin. "I have never seen someone take to it so naturally since I looked in the mirror. C'est magnifique!" Tapered nails patted the thin fabric of Evy's shirt as the colorful figure floated away. Rick blinked. 

"Evy, what is going on?" 

Evy was practically vibrating with the same excitement as when she had corrected the Bembridge Scholars. 

"A few weeks ago I was approached at the museum by the district magistrate about a small smuggling problem pertaining to antiquities going missing. He was able to trace it independently to this club, but cannot act alone. He has a long-standing agreement with the owner and didn't want to upset him. He recommended us highly after that whole Imhotep business and Madame Bijou was more than willing to help us set up this little operation. She was livid that she's being used for a smuggling scandal and doesn't want to bring any unwarranted attention to her brother." 

Rick glanced at the glittering goddess speaking to another patron. "But the magistrate has a brother? We met him at that museum function- oh. Oh…" The color drained from Rick's face as he waved a waiter over. Ardeth shrugged thoughtfully as Rick ordered a strong bourbon. 

"Our task is to root out the source of the smuggling operation? What is our plan of attack?" 

Evy grinned as Rick took a long swallow. "That is the best part, Ardeth: Jonathan and I have been investigating for the past week. I think we've cracked the why and who. We just need you two to help us actually take down the main man." 

Ardeth subtly found all exits and frowned. "Speaking of, where is Jonathan?" 

Evy held up a hand as the lights lowered. 

Madame Bijou spoke rapid French into the microphone, thanking her patrons and introducing the show. A jazz band started a lively tune and Ardeth glanced at Evy with a half grin. 

"What?" 

Rick frowned. "Jazz. It's an American thing." 

Ardeth shrugged and went back to watching the crowd. 

A lithe, demure-looking woman in white and khaki conservative adventuring garb took her place with a parasol in front of her face. The tempo slowed as a sweet melodic contralto filled the air, parasol slowly spinning. Rick sighed. 

"Who the hell are we looking for and when can we leave?" 

Evy hushed him and watched the stage with a smile that Ardeth was sure would physically split her face it was so wide. He followed her line of sight and froze. 

The parasol was gone… as was the skirt and shirt, replaced by the scandalous flapper silk that hung from the slim frame. Ardeth's eyes traveled upward to the face framed by a wavy bob and felt Evy extricate the thin table runner from his fingers.

The number continued as Rick took a sharp inhale. 

"Ho-ly shit!" 

Legs seemed to go on for miles in the getup, movements fluid and languid before the tempo picked up to where it had been before. Glitter and shine floated between tables before landing on the outstretched arm of a man in a bespoke suit. Blue eyes met brown and Rick registered Evy nodding. 

"Oh, great!" He turned to fill Ardeth in on information he'd gathered about the Cairo underground and stopped when he saw the look on the other man's face. Normally inscrutable and aloof, Rick was stunned to find the Medjai transfixed, eyes drawn to every step in the lighthearted dance. Rick sighed. 

Well, if there was anyone more suited to sing stuff and nonsense in this place, he couldn't picture them. 

The ditty ended and the shimmering figure took a bow, turning to head back toward the stage. A gloved hand caught the thin wrist.

"Do you have to go? Why not stay with me 'til closing?" 

Madame Bijou easily lifted the man's fingers. "My apologies, but you, my friend, are in the wrong club for that." A flash of gold and the performer was gone before the man could protest. 

Evy felt a slight breeze. 

The Medjai had disappeared. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jonathan panted as he leaned against the door to the dressing room. That had been entirely too close. A full week of performing in front of that man and NOW of all nights he chose to make a pass? 

What Evy must think of him! 

At least he'd found the culprit. Jonathan despised hard work, but this didn't quite feel very much like it. It was rather fun, really. The entire job was to lark about while looking for clues, and he had uncovered some absolute whoppers. This went so much farther up the chain of command than he was expecting. But, for now, he'd settle for one of the most violently dangerous gangsters in Cairo. 

He had fought off a demon before, after all. More or less. 

He heard the door open and shut as he struggled with the fasteners to his dress. 

"Will? I told you, old bean, I don't have any-" 

The rest of the chattering complaint was lost to time as he was unceremoniously bent over the dressing table. Jonathan flexed his jaw where it had struck the wood, twisting to see the hem of an oversized black suit jacket. 

"What on earth are you playing at?" he muttered, trying to wrench his shoulder out of the larger man's grip. 

"We could ask you the same question. Boss asked you to stay." 

Jonathan flashed a sheepish grin. "Had to do a costume change, old boy. Can't expect two songs to use the same dress." 

The man wrenched Jonathan's arm out in front of him. "And this?" he asked, tapping the thick, jeweled band circling the thin wrist. 

Jonathan squirmed, brows knitting together as the man pressed forward, pinning him soundly to the surface. 

"Just a part of the mystique?" 

The man brought his free hand up to Jonathan's throat. "Nice try." 

Jonathan made a small choking sound as fat fingers squeezed his windpipe. 

"It's one thing to brush him off, but to steal from him?" He made a clucking noise. "That's just pushing your luck." 

Jonathan bucked against the stranger to throw him off, twisting growing more and more feeble as the oxygen left his brain. 

He hauled in a desperate breath as the pressure was ripped away. His ribs heaved against the wood, legs falling out from under him. 

"I'll… never… get used… to that," he rasped, trying to gain purchase on the makeup table. Sturdy arms lifted him around the middle and settled him into the bench. 

"How many times will your infatuation with gold be your undoing?" 

Jonathan jerked his head up and caught sight of Ardeth in the mirror behind him, large hands still wrapped around his middle. The Medjai's expression was completely unreadable. 

"Ah… right." Jonathan fidgeted, wringing his fingers. "It is perfect with this dress. And if it was supposed to be a treasure, why leave it out in the open for anyone to pick up? I rather think it's mine now." 

Ardeth hooked a finger beneath the circlet, frowning. "Is it?" 

Jonathan bit the inside of his cheek, glancing away from his own limp hand. "Oh, alright! I'll put it back after the show." 

Ardeth gave him a very hard stare. 

"Fine! Take it!" 

The metal unhooked and disappeared into Ardeth's robes. Jonathan turned away, glaring at the rapidly forming bruises decorating his skin. 

"Damn. I hate blending down my neck." He pulled one of Evy's gifts toward him, dabbing at the oblong circles. He paused, noticing the stony glare from the Medjai. 

"You… what you must think of me," he mumbled, borderline hiding behind his hand. "Can't deny that it is a bit fun seeing what Evy goes through every day. I'll bet my last antique coin that O'Connell has disowned me." He avoided the enigmatic gaze. "Not sure I want to know your thoughts… even if I did trade a rather nice artifact for them." 

The shadow moved, taking the empty space beside him. "Evelyn taught you how to do this?" 

Jonathan nodded, words drying up as the Medjai took hold of his jaw, turning him to better see in the dim light. 

"You are even more of yourself than before." 

Jonathan blinked. "'Scuse me?" 

Ardeth flashed him a grin. "You have a mask and yet you are completely unguarded. It is breathtaking." He watched carefully as Jonathan's kohl-rimmed eyes finally met his. "You are something ethereal." 

Jonathan was quite sure he wouldn't need to apply any more rouge with the amount of heat he felt rising up his neck. 

"Don't suppose I'll see this again after we're through here?" he sighed, fingering the silk on his shoulder. 

"I would not discard it so readily." Ardeth brought Jonathan's wrist up to eye-level, delicately placing a kiss to his knuckles. Dark red lips split into a smile as Jonathan huffed out a breathy laugh, a small line of worry still between his eyebrows. 

"Always figured you were a bit of a romantic chap," he jabbered. "What with the whole tall, dark, and handsome going on. Oh, I just said that out loud…" 

Ardeth let out a chuckle, moving his hold to entwine his fingers with Jonathan's. 

A groan sounded behind them. 

"What the hell's he got that we don't?" 

Jonathan scowled at the unwelcome distraction. "Well, for one thing, old bean, he knows how to treat a lady." 

The intruder's eyes rolled back in his skull as a boot connected with his forehead. Jonathan nodded in approval. 

"Walk me home after the finale?" he asked hopefully. "I would appreciate a strong chap in all those dark alleys." 

Another brow raise and Jonathan shrugged. 

"Worth a shot." 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was inspired by a first season episode of "Murder, She Wrote" called "Birds of a Feather" and somehow this happened. That is my only explanation. Please accept my offering and my horrible enthusiasm about the Jazz Age and the marvelous world of 1920s drag culture. Also, I apologize for any historical inaccuracies.


End file.
